


the difference between seduction and arson

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Aftercare, Gen, Kinky Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the panfandom aftercare fest, prompt <em>Pete doesn't care about getting aftercare but Gabe needs to give it.</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the difference between seduction and arson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lalejandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/gifts).



Pete fights the cuffs, rising up off the bed and straining as hard as he can, his veins standing out and sweat making his tattoos look vivid-fresh. Gabe takes a breath and centers himself, sliding his hand up the inside of Pete's thigh and pinching hard, twisting the skin between his fingertips hard enough to make Pete yell around the ball gag.

"Easy," Gabe says, and Pete tries to kick him, flopping against the bed like he's doing a dolphin kick. The spreader bar between his ankles keeps him from getting anywhere near making contact. Gabe pinches his thigh again, then moves his hand fast to slap across the sole of Pete's left foot. "Stop fighting."

Saying that's part of the role; the whole _point_ of this, for Pete, is to fight and win. Or at least fight Gabe to a standstill. If Pete gives up it means Gabe's gone way too far.

Gabe's really good at this, though, so he almost never does.

He spanks Pete, hard and flat-handed across the ass, counting off five strokes under his breath and then tangling his hand in Pete's hair. He jerks Pete's head back, hard, and whispers in his ear, "I'm going to break you."

Pete shakes his head, spit running down his chin, and struggles harder. Gabe listens to his breathing, watches the pulse racing in his throat. He runs his free hand down Pete's back, sliding easily over the sweat, and brushes his fingers against Pete's wrist, above the leather cuff. Pete nods, jerky and fast, his eyes open wide. Gabe suspects Pete doesn't see him at all. He's looking at something else.

Gabe lets go of Pete's hair and moves to spank him again, getting three more strokes in against hot red skin before Pete gathers himself and flips over onto his back. He kicks out again, hard and focused this time, hitting Gabe right across the knees. It hurts like fuck and Gabe stumbles back, reaching out blindly to catch himself on the dresser. "Son of a bitch," he mutters, grabbing Pete's phone and hitting the button that sets off the alarm.

It's their signal: end of scene.

Pete slumps against the bed, every muscle going offline at once. His eyes slide closed and he just lies there, breathing hard and almost steaming in the subarctic air conditioning of Gabe's apartment. Gabe leans on the dresser and fights to catch his own breath. That last kick really hurt. He's going to have a bruise.

Pete turns his head to the side and blinks, then again, rapidly, rubbing his cheek against the bed. He must have sweat in his eyes. Gabe pushes off the dresser and goes to him, grabbing a towel from the bedside table to wipe his eyes before he undoes the buckle on the gag.

"Fuck," Pete says, his voice hoarse. "Fuck, that was good."

"I'm glad." The black ball on the gag is slick with spit and marred with teeth marks. Gabe wrinkles his nose and sets it on the table, then reaches down to rub at the hinge of Pete's jaw. Gabe hates using the ball gag; it's just on the verge of too big for Pete's mouth, and it makes him sore. He'd prefer to use a scarf, or something. But Pete insists on it. It's what he needs.

"'m sorry. Thank you."

"Sorry for what?" Gabe is patient, always, with the disjointed thoughts that flood out of Pete after a scene. They'll come at their own pace, with their own logic. He just needs to wait. 

"I kicked you."

"You did."

"Did it hurt?"

Gabe shrugs and wipes Pete's face with the towel, careful to get under his eyes and the corners of his mouth. Spit dries all crusty and awkward there. Gabe hates seeing it.

"Did it hurt?"

"Yeah." Gabe leans down and kisses Pete's forehead. "But I'm okay."

"Sorry."

"Forgiven." Gabe guides Pete over onto his stomach and undoes the cuffs. First the snap connecting them, then unbuckling each wrist cuff, setting the curve of leather aside, taking Pete's wrist in his hands and massaging slowly. "How do you feel?"

"Better. Good." Pete turns his head to the side so he can look up at Gabe. "You don't have to do that."

"Yes, I do." He rubs each wrist for a count of fifty, just enough for the worst of the red to fade from Pete's skin. He does both wrists, then goes back to the first hand and flexes each of Pete's fingers, listening for any hiss of pain.

"Gabe, they are very expensive cuffs. And you know how to use them. They won't hurt me." Pete sounds more affectionate than annoyed. And stoned on endorphins. And hoarse. He needs water.

"Do you need water?"

Pete sighs and turns his face back down to the mattress. "Take the spreader off first."

That means Gabe rubs each ankle, just the same, and checks that Pete can flex his foot and move his toes. "You're obsessive," Pete mumbles.

"I take care of my things."

"I love you too."

Gabe checks the bruises on the inside of Pete's thighs, and the red palm prints on his ass. "How bad does it hurt?"

"Not bad."

"A seven?"

Pete's quiet for a minute. Gabe stares between his shoulder blades and listens to him thinking. "Yeah."

Gabe steps back from the bed. "I'll get you water and Advil."

"Don't be gone long."

He's turned his head to the side again, watching Gabe move; it's the first flash of vulnerability Gabe's seen from him since he put the cuffs on. It makes Gabe's chest go all warm. If he keeps looking the warmth will go through his whole body.

"Unbroken and undefeated," Gabe says.

Pete raises one arm in a vague fist-pump. "Still champion."

Gabe walks down the hall for water and pills, and every step echoes, I love you, I love you, I love you.


End file.
